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Indomitable Advance
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Department of War
”I am convinced of the martial will of the Federation. Throughout history, we have been presented with seemingly insurmountable obstacles, yet here we stand, triumphant and indivisible. Despite it all, the Federation, once thought to have been the concocted delusions of a few men desperate to retain control of this vast realm has stood the test of time... Though the present crisis has shaken Castel to its very core, we shall emerge from the crucible of struggle stronger than ever before. The Federation will endure.“
- The Lord Director, upon ascending to the Imperial regency
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The war in the Philippines was proving to be much more than the in-and-out operation that was presented to Decimus by the Second Consul and the War Department, and his frustration towards the whole ordeal was beginning to show. Though ground casualties had been curbed due to the unrelenting assaults placed on the isles by the LRK, the Federation’s navy faced setback after setback. The Philippine Navy’s use of asymmetric naval warfare was wreaking havoc on the more traditionally minded Castelian naval commanders, and the losses were beginning to pile up... But they could not give in. To back down now would result in an irreparable blow to Castel’s prestige, both domestically and abroad. From the overseas conquests of Aurelian to Septimius’ continental blitzkrieg, the Federation had never lost a war. To a certain extent then, the continued stability of the regency rested on the success of the war, a fact that no doubt troubled the Castelian.
But regardless, the Federation was continuing to see success in the main theater of the war: the northmost Philippine island of Luzon, in the city of Aparri. It was there where the full might of the Federation’s war machine was brought to bear against the Filipino defenders, and where the fighting was most brutal. Though managing to shatter the initial Philippine defense, the Castelians’ advance was soon slowed by the reorganization and reinforcement of their positions around the city. Fighting soon descended into trench warfare, and both sides would suffer hundreds of casualties in an effort to break the stalemate. But the victor of that struggle had already been decided at the first blow. Ferocity may win a few battles, but it alone will not win a war. Despite the rabid defense the Filipino army put up, they were simply shelled into oblivion by Castelian jet aircraft and Castelian artillery; by the end of the battle, Aparri had effectively ceased to exist as a city, much like what had been done to Ayasone only few years prior by General Cyrus Brutus. The decimation of Aparri was soon followed by the near total collapse of cohesion of the Philippine northern army, which commenced a hasty retreat from the city to salvage their remaining forces in preparation for a counterattack. The Castelian High Command, smelling blood in the water, ordered an all out assault from across the northern front. They would overplay their hand. Following up on the second battle of San Fernando, the Federation would dispatch their largest naval force yet to finally end the Fillipino navy’s presence in the South China Sea, and battle would be known as the Federation’s greatest naval defeat in at least thirty years, and arguably one of the most crushing defeats Castel had suffered as well. At least three vessels of the eighteen ships which were dispatched received damages, and saw the Federation suffer more than one thousand casualties. Such was the defeat of the Castelian navy at the third battle of San Ferando that the Castelian navy has seemingly pulled back to more firmly controlled waters. Their attempted blitz in their air didn’t fare too much better. Despite having gained total air dominance over the north of the island through the Aparri campaign, Castelian Aerospace Command was caught completely off guard by the resistance in the south of Luzon. Pooling their remaining aircraft and anti-air installations together, the Filipino armed forces managed to rebuff the Castelians’ attempted forays near Manila, and managed to down a few Castelian aircraft in the process. But despite their failures at sea and in the air, the breakthrough at Aparri has satisfied Kastel, and Castelian leadership now seem more resolute than ever to see this war to its inevitable conclusion, no matter the cost.
For the Empire!
The Rise of America
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The war continues to drag as the Americans continue the onslaught. They sent countless bombers to Mexico but unfortunately they were all shot down. It was fatal, for the Americans have plenty more where that came from waiting for the future. Now as for the troops, they were promised provisionary actions would be taken but there had been a change in plans. The conniving Mexicans shot down the soldiers' Supply drops before they reached their intended target. All the soldiers could do was watch as their only hope came down in blazing flames… While the troops did have a decent quantity of provisions left, they did begin to panic. It was only natural, this was the second time they had to go without provisions after all. As an act of mild desperation the Soldiers began to raid villages, but to their surprise the villages were already evacuated. It appears as if the villagers had known the Americans were coming, and understood that they stood no chance. Logically speaking it was their best choice but they only delayed the inevitable. One may think the troops would begin to lose morale, but they could feel something was off, there had been a change, a shift in weather, finally the time had come, the one thing the American troops needed, the one thing that will keep this battle going, MORE TROOPS. The higher ups saw how successful the troops were and decided it was best to bolster their ranks. Some may find this decision foolish because the original soldiers were already beginning to run low on rations and now they have more mouths to feed, but the Americans thought differently. They knew that with more people they had more opportunity to find food. But that matters not, the important thing was to keep marching and killing any who would stand in their way. While they were worried about food, the troops managed to continue the push with very little casualties. These troops know one thing for certain, they will not lose to something as pathetic as starvation. GOD BLESS AMERICA!
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Rogue Mexican
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War is said to be unpredictable, and today's events proved that. The American troops continued the march toward Mexico City but things didn't go as planned. The filthy Mexicans prepared for the troops and formed a brigade. At first the Americans were not worried, they thought themselves invincible, but their lack of provisions finally managed to catch up to them. They were slow and sluggish, it was perfect for the Mexican brigade. Not only were the Americans unsuccessful in pushing forward but they were also easily pushed back. This loss made the Americans desperate and as such they decided to attempt to raid a nearby village for food. At the time it seemed to be the best choice, for they had no idea when the next supply drop would come. To the surprise of the Americans this village was fully prepared to defend itself. The villagers were only armed with mediocre weaponry mostly consisting of shotguns and firearms, but due to the state of the troops it was more than enough to push the soldiers out of the village. Things seemed hopeless; the troops had no food left and so many mouths to feed, this couldn't possibly get worse. But just as the troops were about to resort to the final solution, a message from high command came through.“Soldiers listen up, we have heard your cries and will provide, your next supply drop should reach you imminently.” The soldiers had something to grasp onto, they had a chance, and they would not waste it. They waited patiently for 5 hours for the supply drop to arrive and provide its contents… But when it arrived it came with something unexpected, there wasn't just food, weapons, medical equipment, and water, no there was something even more important that came with the necessities, something that would determine the winner of this war, more troops!!! Now not only do they have enough food to last the rest of this war, but they will also have enough soldiers to continue the assault.
GOD BLESS AMERICA!!!!
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A dimly lit bar. Gold trim around a dark wooden surface, tended to by a bartender who was serving someone on the other end of the room. Rainfall couldn't remember how many times he'd seen the scenery here—at least, he was never bored of it. The metropolitan London bar was usually quite busy, and especially more so in the holiday season. As Rainfall idly tapped his glass on the bar table, he thought back to his time watching this very city burn.
Or moreso, to one of the characters in that show. Storm... where have you been? The last time they met, she told him she'd stay behind to look after the base and Mr. Eris. In truth, they hadn't met for very long; Rainfall was invited to the group by chance, and their time stealing exoskeletons from the government was likely the only mission they'd gone onto. But something about her had interested the sniper—that was rare, for a man who had displayed a disturbingly low level of empathy and care for anyone around him from a young age.
The sniper couldn't remember the last time he felt this way towards someone, or really, felt much at all. Was it when his mother died, shielding him from his alcoholic father?
Was it when he found his only childhood friend bleeding out in a London alley?
Was it when he joined the Army, finding his place as a sharpshooter in a fireteam, as his unit landed on the shores of the Golden Throne? When the fascinating sound of artillery shells and gunfire landed like droplets of rain, striking the earth? As the report of his marksman rifle melded perfectly into the scene around him, what did he feel?
In truth, the sniper didn't know. He didn't know then, and he doesn't know how to feel now . The sniper silently laughed—why was he pondering this? After all, he didn't even know his own name, much less what he truly felt about those around him.
The sniper had a childhood, of course. Everyone had one, and the sniper was no exception. But his wasn't particularly memorable, not least because it was a blur among the myriad false identities and backstories he had made up over the years. A mild amnesia covered the important parts—the faces of his parents, his time spent floating around the British education system, all of that was clearly visible. But whenever the sniper tried to recall what his friend and mother called him—his father preferred "worthless bastard" if he acknowledged him at all—the sniper only drew a blank. The name he had picked for himself, Rainfall, seemed to have replaced his old identity in all his recollections.
But that name he picked for himself was good enough. The sniper wasn't at this bar just to reminisce, he was he for some business. The mostly illegal kind, he thought as he remembered his travel plan saved to his phone. The government and the Ministry may have been too late to prevent that fight in London, but they could at least try to catch the participants, mostly excluding White Rose. Sooner or later, they'd come for him too—so it was time for the sniper to disappear for a while. Before he could, though, he'd need a new passport, and a new name. Brian Kenton served well, but that name had finally run its course, and without a backer like Chrysanthemum forging documents for him, he'd have to go back to his ways as an independent contractor. That was the man he was meeting.
A master at his craft was all Rainfall could offer for a description. By chance, the sniper had found the man while he was planning for his first contract outside of the borders of the British Empire—and for that, he needed some documents. The man's work was impeccable. Nobody, from the border agents at the British airport to the customs officer on the other side, suspected a thing. The sniper felt it was somewhat poetic, nearly twenty years later when this man announced that he'd be retiring from his work—having earned enough to last the rest of his life, no doubt—that the sniper could get one last passport from him. To his surprise, the man agreed—the sniper wasn't sure why, but he showed up to the bar to wait anyways.
As the sniper finished the last of his drink, a voice chimed in from behind. "Looks like I'm just in time, eh? Bartender? Get my friend here another, would you?"
The sniper turned to face the source of the voice. Time, clearly, had not been kind to the artisan. What had been a brown head of hair had long since turned gray—no wonder why he wanted to retire now. As the bartender worked away, the sniper put on his best smile. Being unable to feel much emotion didn't mean he couldn't at least put on a show.
"You're a bit late," the sniper said.
"You're early! And I just bought you a drink. That's enough to make up for it, right?" The artisan laughed. "Listen here. You're my last customer. After this, I'm done. No more. I'm taking me and my family to relax for once, I'm tired of the running. Oh, where to? Droiden, Germany, Frauncia, anywhere but here. The world's big enough to fit one more retired artist! Anyways. Seeing as you've also been supporting my ol' family business for so long, I'll give you this for free."
The artisan retrieved a passport. A picture of the sniper was accompanied by the name Welt Reiser. "You've got some German blood in you, eh? Pretty peculiar name, but you know what they say. The customer is always right, so... as you wanted."
The sniper took the document, flipping through its pages and turning it over. Looking into the gold text and red background of the cover, he smiled, perhaps out of genuine happiness.
"Then for now, I am Welt. Thank you," the sniper said as he shook the artisan's hand. "Enjoy your retirement."
Because I'll certainly enjoy mine.
Solo, a American Story
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It could be said that the American soldiers' will was hard as stone, and their morale was thick as steel. They believe that that difference was what separated themselves apart from the rest of the world. But the Mexicans' have proven time after time that they were not to be underestimated, and the American soldiers have taken that to heart. Today for instance, the American troops were unable to gain any ground, but at the same time didn't lose any either, as such the soldiers saw this as a win. After all, as long as they are alive, there is hope.
As for the troops resources things did not go as planned, the latest supply drop yet again failed to make it. This led to an interesting development: the soldiers created a group to “scavenge” resources from nearby villages. While there was some resistance, it was nothing the Americans couldn't handle. Of course the most important development of all was the United States finally provided an aerial attack to weaken the resistance the American soldiers may meet in the future. Thanks to this, the path has been paved for the American soldiers and now there's only one way forward.
IN GOD WE TRUST!!!!
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American wars: The Mexican wars
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To clear the path and pave the way to success the Americans utilized a bombing. As the planes painted the skies in darkness, and filled the hearts of Mexicans with terror, The Americans simply watched in awe. This day may have scarred natives and their land, but the Americans feared not the darkness, for they knew whose side it was on. When the smog finally cleared there was nothing but flat lands in sight, all interruptions were gone. The American soldiers seized the opportunity, for they realized now was the time for swift action. The remaining Mexicans did fight hard but they stood a chance against the Americans superior numbers and weaponry. History has never seen such a one sided battle, for not a single American troop died that day. Not a single enemy remained, as for the civilians, they were now under new occupations. Truly today was one worth celebrating for the American troops in Mexico, Unfortunately the same can not be said for the troops in California. They tried another advancement and failed horribly, even with the aid of a naval assault on the coast. Not only were the American soldiers forced to make a tactical retreat on land but also at sea. It was clear that there was so much left to do, but victory was still in sight, they just needed to keep looking.
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The Final March
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Amon Nixon's Office:
This war has gone on for far too long, we need to change our tactics. I initially planned to end it in three years but now it has almost been four. This issue must be resolved for my peaceful nation's future, or else my goals may derail even more than they already have. Perhaps the time has come for a change in command. There is no doubt in my mind that we will have to reevaluate the worth of the higher ups in each of the committees but for now I'll wait.
With this Amon sends an encoded message directly to the committee of peace, as well as to the committee of freedom on what direction this war needs to take. The plans and orders were incredibly advanced tactics and strategy Needless to say both committees were surprised by this, for it had been quite some time since they had received an order from Amon directly, But they executed the order given none the less. They had issued the orders drafted by Amon himself directly into the chips of each soldier, leading to increased unprecedented results on the soldiers' part.
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Mexico war front:
Marching for one sole purpose, the Soldiers felt nothing as the conquest continued, for They knew they only existed to serve America, and as such would do so with utmost efficiency. They were an unstoppable force, nothing could stop them. It was clear there was a massive change in the methods and strategy taken by the Americans. The troops were far quicker and more efficient than before, leaving no room for error. Not that it matters of course, for the majority of natives had already stopped resisting, instead opting to migrate closer to mexico city. The natives clearly felt no shame in abandoning their homes and fleeing deeper into the land, but it was only delaying the inevitable, for it was clear that the final days of Mexico would arrive, because the Americans after four long years had finally reached Mexico city.
—---------------------
California war front:
Starting with an airstrike things did not look good for the war front in California. Not only did the previous battle fail, but so too did the latest bombing. Utilizing the brief window of opportunity the Americans successfully deployed a naval attack. This time through superior tactics the Americans laid waste to countless ships, blowing one up after the other. It was an absolute obliteration of the native forces, with almost no ships surviving, and to the few that did they would be sieged shortly after the attack, for the Americans didn't want to leave any loose ends. Finally after conquering the shores of California, the American navy deployed countless troops to push the Californians even further back. Some of the natives resisted with all of their might, but in the end they stood no chance against the Americans.
-For Democracy!!!!!
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The Failure of The Committees.
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Molly Richardson's office:
Lord Amon continues to send my committee orders for our war operation in Mexico. He has taken over my war operations and will ruin everything that I have worked towards with this war. This time he has ordered us to wait and find an opening in Mexico's cities defenses before we send in the troops, but we don't have time for that. It has become all too clear that in his old age, lord amon has become senile and foolish, in other words, I'll have to take matters into my own hands.
Believing her tactics to be superior, Richardson hijacked Amon's orders and changed them. She would not allow herself or her country to fall because of Amon. Thus she changed the orders given to the Mexican units. As for the Californian units, she believed his plan was “acceptable” in her eyes. This was a gamble for if her orders failed, she did not doubt that Amon would show no mercy to her. That said Amon would most likely show no mercy regardless, for she had just directly defied him, and as such her fate was now sealed…
—---------------------
Mexico war front:
Starting with a massive air strike, the Americans tried to swiftly overwhelm Mexico City, but to the surprise of the Mexican citizens the American jets were shot down before they could even reach the city. This had no impact on the American soldiers who simply marched forth, diving as deep within the city as they could go. It was clear that the soldiers fought with everything they had, gaining as much ground as they could. But it seems the once efficient military has already fallen back to their initial tactics. The Mexicans, having had years to prepare a defense, had successfully expunged them from the city. It was a total failure on the Americans' part, but at least there weren't many casualties. To the Mexicans, it must have seemed that the Americans' last push was nothing more than a fluke, for how else could their tactics change so drastically? It matters not, all that matters is securing the perimeter and preparing for the Americans' next strike.
—---------------------
California war front:
Things were finally beginning to shift in California. The previous battle was a massive success, which allowed the Americans to gain an incredible amount of ground on the Californian people. Starting with an air strike, the landscape of California had been changed drastically. It was the perfect opportunity for the American soldiers to progress and dive deeper into enemy territory. The Americans marched forward, seizing as much land as they could, letting nothing get in their way. The little resistance they did face was nothing compared to them.
-For Democracy!!!!!
—---------------------
Aristotle stepped out of the car and took a look at the cottage in front of him, he chuckled to himself and smiled. He looked back to the car and thanked the driver. As the car left the property. Aristotle crept up the stairs, trying not to make any loud noises in case his family was sleeping. The sky was orange and Aris could barely see the sun coming up, although the morning was particularly dusky today. At the top of steps, he looks under the welcome mat and finds the spare key. He gave a slight frown, he knows his father too well. He takes the key and opens the door as quietly as possible, and when he enters tries to close it quietly as well, but the door continues to creak while he closes it. As soon as the door is closed, a young woman comes from one of the adjacent rooms, rubbing her eyes. As soon as he sees his sister he sighs, all that caution for naught. Erissa finally opens her eyes and sees Aris, she smiles and gives her brother a hug.
“So, how was school? Was it everything you ever dreamed it would be?” She asked him, somewhat sarcastically. Aris puts his hand on the back of his head and gives an embarrassed smile. He didn’t want to admit to his twin that he preferred school over living in the capital with his family. He needed a way to get out of there, to do something productive that didn’t make him seem like a disappointment to the family. School seemed fulfilling enough, and it was, but would it be fulfilling in the long run when he wouldn’t be a prince anymore, when his sister eventually ascended the throne?
“It was fine, it doesn’t beat living here though.” He responded awkwardly, like he was trying to avoid the conversation about school altogether.
“How long are you going to be back for?” Erissa asked. Aris paused to think for a second. His head hurt from the journey back home. After a few seconds he got it.
“Until August I think, it’s a few month holiday which is nice, don’t have to worry about school work for a while.” Aris said, as his sister smiled excitedly.
“Then you can come to the Senate sessions with me. We’re only on this retreat for a few more days until we go back to the city. It’ll be fun I promise.” She said with a smile on her face. Aris responded with a weak smile. He was never much for politics, all those years of his father pushing it onto him burned out what little passion he had, but he considered her offer. Since he wasn’t heir anymore, maybe he could enjoy politics again. He wasn’t as gifted at speaking as his sister was, but at least he understood what was being said and that always made the difference. But right now his mind was on one more thing.
“Where’s dad?” He asked Erissa. He hadn’t seen his father in a year, the König was apparently too busy to visit his son once or twice. Aris seemed bitter even mentioning his father. Erissa shrugged.
“Last I saw him, he was in his study. This was supposed to be a mental health retreat for him and mother, but he spent most of it working. I wouldn’t be shocked if he dozed off in the study.” Erissa replied coldly. Aris nodded and headed to his fathers study. There he found the honorable König Valek asleep at his desk, leaning on a stack of paperwork for a pillow. Aris sighed and shook his head. He entered the room and slowly walked up to his sleeping father. Upon closer look Aris noticed he still had a pen in his hand and wasn’t even dressed for bed. Aris scoffed and nudged his sleeping father. Valek slowly awoke and looked up at the person who interrupted his sleep. For a second his vision was blurred and couldn’t make his son out, but after a second he recognized his only son. He gave a slight smile as he attempted to stand up. Aris helped his father up and they embraced in an awkward hug. After they separated, both men could barely look each other in the eye, constantly shifting their eyes to avoid looking at each other's faces, until Valek broke the uneasy silence.
“So, how’s university been?” Valek asked in a weak voice, still a little dazed from being woken up. Aris looks down, showing a slight shame in his face that his father noticed.
“It’s been fine. Why didn’t you visit so you could figure it out yourself.” Aris replied coldly. The tone felt like a stab to the stomach of Valek. It was his decision not to go visit his only son, not because he was busy, but because he couldn’t bring himself to see his son after what happened before he left. He felt ashamed, but couldn’t bring himself to tell his son the truth.
“I was incredibly busy, son, being the head of state can drain a man of his mind and body.” Valek responded, lying through his teeth. Aris seemed to understand, as he nodded his head with an almost blank looking face. Valek knew that his son didn’t believe him, but Valek didn’t have the heart to truly explain. He was the leader of a nation going through a tumultuous time in the world, he had to be and look tough to keep stability among the citizens, and emotions weren’t part of that stoicism that Valek had to show. These past few years have aged Valek, although still considered being young at 48, he looked like he was in his mid 50s, and Aris noticed.
“Something must be wrecking him.” Aris thought, as he stopped nodding.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about your sister. Quite an accomplished, the youngest legislature in our country’s history.” Valek said, smiling weakly. Aris smiled, he was proud of his sister, but he held his jealousy in enough to not burst into contempt for his grievances towards her and his father. He may have spoken those grievances towards him long ago, but he was trying to move on the best he could.
“Yes, I’m very proud of her, mother should be too.” Aris replied. Valek was noticing how uncomfortable his son was getting, talking about Erissa and her political accomplishments were surely getting on his nerves. He sighed, he had to move the conversation elsewhere.
“Speaking of your mother, I suggest you go say hi to her, she usually gets up around this time. She’ll be ecstatic to see you.” Valek suggested and Aris complied. Aris turned his back on his dad as he went for the door. Valek sat back down as Aris left the room, not fully closing the door. The king put his hands on his face and muttered to himself loudly.
“Where did I go wrong?” He asked himself as he put his hands down and looked at all the paperwork he slept on. Aris heard the mutter and stopped. He thought of going back there and consoling his father, but now was not the time. He kept moving and opened the door to a bedroom to say hi to his mother.
Washington D.C., America
Kesair Sephelios smoked a cigarette as he waited. The Americans sought to make a deal, and the Autocrat deemed him the best fit for their nation, though he knew not why. And so, with the usual fanfare befitting an envoy of the Autocrat, the Director of the Security Directorate now stood in the White House, waiting for his turn to speak with the president, whom was just wrapping up a meeting beforehand. Kesair looked quite unassuming relative to the average Ixilian diplomat the world knew, a man of modest stature, gaunt and tall, but not freakishly so, and his guards were not the usual hulking Blades, but two wiry men in jet black skin suits with strange masks. His clothing covered by an elegant but relatively austere pitch-black trench coat with epaulets with only slight gold and velvet trim, and his only distinguishing feature otherwise being a medallion around his neck of a double headed eagle of Ixilian style. It was an unremarkable uniform on the surface, but to the other houses of Ixilia, Kesair Sephelios was a force to be feared and his signature cloak invariably heralded the end of whatever petty noble house it visited. After some time passed, the president emerged. Billy Emerson walks towards the unassuming Ixilian diplomat.
The president's demeanor and tone is polite, to the extent it is practically dripping from him.
"Hello as I assume you're well aware, I am the acting president Billy Emerson"
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance your excellency. I am Prince Kesair Sephelios, humble servant of his divine majesty Paramount Autocrat Caros Ixilia. His Majesty has sent me to negotiate on his behalf, you are interested in acquiring Seattle as I understand, correct?"
"Your grace you are correct, we are extremely interested in claiming Seattle. Would it be safe to assume your interested in parting with it?"
"The Free City of Seattle is a prized jewel of the Autocracy, a people who voluntarily submitted to a more intimate and enlightened partnership between our nations. The City's most noble Magnates have entrusted us to secure their further peace and prosperity as part of the greater Ixilian co-prosperity Sphere. It would be a most egregious act if we were to just part with it. Additionally, the port, a once dilapidated and unimpressive thing, is now a core of Ixilian trade in the East Pacific, the Autocracy has made substantial investments into it."
The American president speaks in a polite, yet persuasive tone to the Ixilian princeling.
"It is true that The Free City of Seattle is quite the powerful trading port for your nation, as such I will be more than willing to compensate by providing the autocracy special trading privileges within America."
"Special trading rights? What do you mean by this? Will Ixilians be able to freely establish operations in America? I know men from the Ore Consortium and Petroleum Cartel that that have long lamented the inability to trade in American Raw goods, and likewise, I have contacts that are interested in exporting to America. The Head Overseer of Autocrat's Own has expressed a firm belief the American people would love them."
Sephelios finishes his cigarette and lights another.
"I'm offering for the Ixilians to have the ability to freely establish trade within our nations, This would of course include exporting and importing goods with our nation."
Emmerson speaks in a far more formal tone, his voice shifting subtly into a firmer tone. The Ixilian's tone remains unchanged, but Emerson swears his eyes look vaguely like those of a cat as he speaks.
"Hmmm, and how much of Seattle are we to cede? And what of treatment of Ixilian traders? You must understand we are a unique people, most of my countrymen are not as strongly constituted as those of royal blood like myself. It is standard Ixilian policy that all Ixilian subjects enjoy diplomatic immunity and guarantees of non-harassment abroad in order to provide both for their safety and prevent unnecessary conflict in the event our unique culture does ever cause conflict. Now of course as our track record shows, no Ixilian has ever been indicted in a legal controversy abroad and our sailors never take shore leave outside our respect installations, so I hope you will find such conditions amendable."
"While I cant guarantee my citizens will not harass your own, for this is a land of free speech, I can guarantee strict punishment to any government officials who discriminate against your people. As for Seattle I would like all of it, but you can keep the section of the port."
Kesair looks at Emerson, a mild quantity of doubt visible in his eyes.
"Mr. Emerson, I hope you will be able to enforce such decrees, but I believe the best measures are those which minimize conflict between our peoples, and what minimizes conflict is what minimizes contact."
"I see, it may be a struggle, but I believe that we can all coexist, for what is America, if not a free and loving nation. Things may not be easy from the start, but I know if we struggle on things will work out. I will make it so we wont discriminate against you, just give me Seattle."
Kesair notices Billy's tone shifts again and appears to be the man's genuine thoughts.
"Yes, we shall part with Seattle, but we need proper assurances. A few more consulates here and there might go a long way to helping both parties, as the best way of forging love and common sympathy is by giving new parties a regulated and safe place to work together."
"I see, I believe that is completely fair and appropriate. Of course we will require some basic information on both of them, background checks and such."
"The Autocracy can handle the staffing and securing of such sites, we won't have need of Native help"
"Alright that seems acceptable. We were also would like to readjust the Canadian borders if that will be alright."
“We would like the border between Canada and the US to follow the 49th parallel.”
"Ah yes, that would be a net gain for the Canadians, I'm sure they'll agree."
Kesair in a rapid manner takes a singular powerful drag of his cigarette, exhausting the smoke in one breath, and then deposits the butte of it in an ashtray.
"Well, if that is all that concerns me, I shall leave some of my legal subordinates to work out the finer details of the treaty with your staffers, there is much that requires my attention Mr. President. With that I bid you good day."
“Have a good day your grace”
NotAnEmpire for making me stop being lazy and do a cowrite.The Second Betrayal
—---------------------
Molly Richardson's office:
“How could my attack fail!!!” Clenching her fist, Richardson furiously slams it into her desk. This can't be happening, if Amon finds out then he’ll surely… No, it's best not to think about it. With a deep inhale, Richardson calms herself. Alright I can still save this, all I have to do is delete our data on our last battle record and prevent Amon from learning of it. But how will I explain why we haven't taken over Mexico city? From what I know, Amon wouldn't believe his strategy had failed, in other words I'll have to win this battle swiftly without his knowledge.This time I'll win for sure. Richardson swiftly exits her office, heading straight for the Committee of peace's mainframe, after which she deletes all data related to the last battle. Sighing heavily, Richardson feels as if a weight has been taken off her shoulders. Ok now all that remains is to swiftly conquer Mexico City. The previous battle was merely a fluke, nothing more… With that Emmerson returns to her office, not noticing the hidden camera watching her as she leaves.
—---------------------
Mexico war front:
Continuing the blood bath, the Americans attempted to launch a bombing which was meant to severely damage Mexico City's defenses. Unfortunately in a cruel twist of fate the bomber jet explodes before it could take off, resulting in countless lives going up in smoke. Of course all was not lost, for there was still the main push. The Americans stationed in Mexico had a high quantity of troops due to all the reinforcements they had received. For Richardson, his push was her last chance, if it crumbled, she would surely follow. That said, fate did not treat Richardson kindly, for not only did the attack not succeed, but several soldiers died resulting in a catastrophic failure on her part.
—---------------------
California war front:
California's war front only continued to shift toward the Americans' favor. Advancing at an unprecedented pace, the Americans were relentless in their push. For It was finally time to take on San Francisco. Starting with a massive bombing, the troops quickly dealt with incoming resistance. The city was defenseless against the American forces, which tore through their once powerful city as if it was nothing. Eventually resistance stopped all together, for the locals were too scared to stand up against the might of the Americas. The end was coming and all could see it. It was only a matter of time until the rest of California crumbled, just as its once proud city did.
-For Democracy!!!!!
—---------------------
Hammer and Anvil
---
Department of War
The Filipino defense was beginning to crumble. For the better part of three years, the Federation had exchanged blows with the Philippine Republic, yet neither side had managed to strike a decisive blow against the other. But as the momentum of the war had continued to shift in Castel’s favor, it would be their breakthrough at Appari which would finally see Kastel fully regain the initiative against Manila. Soon after the Philippine army’s route from Appari, the Castelians would press their advantage, and relentlessly pursued the Philippine army further down the Cagayan river until the two opposing forces eventually met at the city of Ilagan. They stood no chance. Leveraging their supremacy in the skies, the Castelian air force began relentlessly bombing the city, killing thousands and grinding a once sprawling city into dust. Yet even after the bombing ceased, the Filipino defenders would receive no respite---they simply traded one hell for another: just as the ceaseless bombing began to wind down, the Filipinnos were faced with the ear-shattering roar of over a dozen howitzers. The army, once numbering in the thousands, was reduced to only a few hundred against the thousands of Castelians and their auxiliaries besieging the city. The city’s defenders would be subsequently slaughtered in the following engagement, annihilating the northern Filipino army and opening the route to Manila. To the west, the Castelian High Command, seeking to capitalize on the Philippine's faltering war effort, authorized one final assault against the symbol of Filipino resistance against the Castelian onslaught: San Fernando. Yet their intention wasn’t to take the city. In what could only be described as one of the largest bombings of a civilian target in recorded history, using a mix of explosive and incendiary ordinance, the Castelian air force would mercilessly bomb a city of one hundred and twenty five thousand into the ground. By the time the Castelians had pulled back to their bases in the South China Sea, San Fernando had been reduced to a burning pile of rubble, and any who had remained in the city were now just charred corpses. Emboldened by the inland successes of the Combined Army, the Kriegsmarine would also resume their forays into Filipino territory, yet with a markedly different approach; rather than face the asymmetric tactics of the Philippine navy head on, the Castelians would leverage their numbers and strangle their logistics. The gamble worked, and the Filipinos increasingly found themselves unable to counter what was a front-wide assault against their ability to supply their defense against the Castelian army.
The steel gauntlet of the Castelian Federation continues to tighten its grip over the Philippines. If it not broken soon, it may spell the end for the Philippine Republic.
For the Empire!
The end of the incompetence.
—---------------------
Molly Richardson's office:
“It.... it failed again…” Realizing her latest attack failed, Richardson realized she had no hope of retaining her current position. I have to flee the country! Lord Amon, no Nixon will surely torture me for what I have done! Sigh. There is still time, If I head straight for Canada, then Nixon will have no way of getting to me. Suddenly a pounding could be heard on the door. Who could that be, dId Nixon already send his men? Impossible, he shouldn't yet know of our defeat. With that the door is promptly kicked open, and two large men swiftly barge in. I have to keep appearances. “How dare you come into my office unannounced!” The two men pay no heed to her complaints and quickly knock her out.
As Richardson slowly begins to regain consciousness she hears an unfamiliar voice.
“Hello, Molly.” The mysterious man states in a cold callous tone.
The mysterious man suddenly queues one of his guards, to inject Richardson with a dose of modified Opioids.
“If you're wondering what that drug does, it will cause you to experience Hyperalgesia.” The man calmly states.
“Who are you and why have you brought me here?” Richardson screeches, before noticing she's tied up.
“Oh I forgot how much I hated her annoying voice, gag her up.” The mysterious man orders. “As for your question, you already know who I am, you were a committee head after all, of course, it's no surprise that you don't know what I look like, given I've never released any files on myself.”
Dear god, to know all of that can only mean one thing, this man is… Nixon. How has he found me? He should not even know about the defeat yet!
Sigh, “you committee heads always overestimate your worth, but in reality you are nothing”
With this Amon pulls out his personal crowbar. “Tell me, do you know what I hate most of all? It's quite simple, I hate wasting American resources. That said wasting resources has been the only thing you have done this entire war. We have lost countless human resources during this war, because of your foolish strategies. I even tried to rectify your mistakes by taking command, but you… You could not even follow my orders. But do not worry, I will send your replacement to handle the war, but before any of that tell me which hurts more when I swing from the left or the right?”
—---------------------
Mexico war front:
The Americans continue their bombardment of Mexico City. Utilizing a bomber, the Americans yet again failed to bomb the city. Following this The Americans utilized a superb yet efficient strategy to take on the city in one push. Yet the Mexicans managed to counter it, leaving the battle as a total draw neither side could gain any ground on the other. The Mexicans struggled with all their might and just managed to keep the American military out of their city. The Mexicans took this as a sign, they knew the end was near, and yet they kept fighting.
—---------------------
California war front:
California's war front only continued to shift in the Americans' favor. Starting with a massive air strike, the Americans paved their way through the terrain of California. The Americans continued to march through the territory, proceeding to conquer more and more land. San fransico has already fallen to their might, but that was not the end. For The Americans, the next target was San Jose. While it may not be nearly as large as San Francisco, it still had its value. This war will end soon, there is no doubt about it.
-For Democracy!!!!!
—---------------------
The Final Curtain
—---------------------
Nixon's Lair:
I've had my fun with Molly, but if I go any further she may be permanently damaged. Now then, what should I do with her? She is a valuable human resource, so there's no point in wasting her. “Ah yes I know what shall do with you.” Amon speaks fully well knowing Molly can't understand a word he's saying in the shape she's in. “Take her to the medical bay, I expect her to be chipped and patched up, then send her to work at the coal mines,” Amon says to his guards.
Now then, there's the issue of Mollys’ replacement. His name was Timothy Perez, he possessed incredible potential as a committee head. He has already proven himself an excellent strategist and as such I've put him in charge of finishing this war. The only problem is he's ill experienced and young, but this is the perfect chance for him to learn...
—---------------------
Mexico war front:
The Americans start with an air strike. It was set to target the main defensive line of Mexico city, but it was intercepted before it could land. That brief moment provided the Mexicans with The last bit of relief they would ever experience, for they didn't see the barrage of troops incoming. This time, the Mexican defenses broke, and a large quantity of troops entered the city, marching through their defenses as if they were nothing. The Mexicans had fought to protect their city for some time, and it shows through how exhausted they are. This only served to strengthen the Americans' push through the city. The Mexicans resolve, which once shined so brightly was now broken, The United States has won the war.
—---------------------
Unbridled Terror
---
Department of War
Overwhelming force against dogged defense. Starved and shattered, yet unwilling to surrender, the Philippine army continued to resist the onslaught. Nevertheless, despite their determination to repulse their Castelian invaders, they were in full retreat... Or so the Castelians thought. Believing their enemies to be broken and victory in sight, the Heer pursued the remnants of the Filipino army with rabid tenacity, rapidly outpacing their logistics as they crossed the mountains of Cordillera Central. Having taken the bait, the Philippine army sprung the trap. Drawing upon what reserves they still had, the Filipinos would finally move to check the Castelian blitz at the city of Palayan, located at the heart of the Central Luzon Plains. Thousands of Castelians soon found themselves caught between the Filipino army and the mountains, with only the plains of Luzon to provide any sort of defense. However, even despite their obvious disadvantage the Castelians would not fold so easily. While bearable, the Castelian air force continued to shell the Filipino’s position, slowing their progress against the encircled Castelian army as the latter continued to attempt a breakout. They eventually would, but not before both sides suffered staggering casualties. Fury. Following their failure to crush the remnants of the Philippine army, the Castelian High Command would order the mass bombing of Luzon. Indiscriminately, the Castelians would attack civilian and military targets alike, leveling infrastructure and causing mass panic across the island. Their bombings would kill thousands, though it could not hold a candle to the efforts of the Kriegsmarine. A country heavily reliant on food imports due to its burgeoning population, the solidification of the Castelian naval blockade after the Filipino navy’s failure to break it has resulted in the onset of hunger on the population, no doubt further exacerbated by the increasing lack of functioning infrastructure. The blockade has claimed the lives of thousands already, and Kastel has shown no signs of relenting in what can be described as a total strangulation of the country. Though they managed to hold on for now, the prospects for Manila grow increasingly grim, and only time will tell if they are able to continue to hold out.
For the Empire!
The Aftermath
—---------------------
Location: Classified:
Sitting at a large round table were four out of the six committee heads. There was Timothy Perez, Damion Alastor, Bradley McDowel, and finally Robert Jones, they ran the committees of Peace, Freedom, sustenance, and innovation respectively. That said it was quite rare for two nonetheless four committee heads to meet, then again the circumstances are also quite rare…
“Mcdowel is here we may begin the conference.” Jones proclaimed in a cold sterile tone.
“I must ask why you ordered us here? I know Lord Amon has given you a special rank because he favors you, but that does not mean you can summon us at your leisure. We are very busy, you know.” Alastor says before proceeding to place his cigarette in his mouth.
“Oh please, you know why he summoned us, we finally won that war with the Mexicans. That said, I am curious about one thing: Who is he?” Mcdowell says before casually pointing toward Perez.
“Oh, me? I'm the new head of the Committee Of Peace.” Perez says in an enthusiastic voice, not feeling intimidated by his peers.
After Perez said this, the room went silent, for the older committee heads understood that if Richardson was replaced, that could only mean she was dead. It was not as if the other committee heads cared for each other, they were just shocked one of their own died.
“I see, Interesting, so how did Richardson die?” Mcdowel trying to break the silence, asks in a nonchalant voice. Making it abundantly clear that Richardson's death didn't affect her at all.
“That..” before Perez could say anything further Jones interjects.
“That is classified, you do not need to know Richardsons fate… Anyway to get us back on track, we are here to discuss what will become of Texas and California”
“I'm sure you all have already thought of this but I'll say it anyway, Texas is rich in oil, and California is home to many minerals to which we can utilize. They also have an abundance of fertile soil, As such I believe my Committee is best suited to Handling the two states.” Mcdowel says in an enthusiastic tone due to the prospect of the new projects exciting her.
“For the most part I agree with Mcdowel, that said there is one more issue I believe we must discuss.” Jones retorts in a serious, yet blank tone.
Alastor removes his cigarette, as if to signify he was ready to talk.
“You're referring to the chipping of our new population, correct? Leave it to my Committee, we should be able to have 99% of their population completely chipped in about a year. That said, there could be an issue if any of the mexicans fled and reported about how people were changing”
“That won't be an issue, we have already tripled our border security In order to prevent their populace from running back to their home land, but even if some did get through no one would believe them. They come from a nation of Paganism worshiping Psychos with little to no credibility, Between them and us it's clear who the world will believe.” Perez responds in a humble yet persuasive tone.
“Alright then, can we consider this meeting adjourned?” Jones questions.
“Yes that seems fine with us, goodbye Jones” Mcdowel responds in an uplifting manner, most likely because she is excited to work on her new projects.
The Committee heads proceed to leave the office and head back to their respective work environments.
—---------------------
Advancement
—---------------------
Alastor sits in his office pondering the new developments of Texas and California. It has only been a few months since the committee heads held their latest conference to discuss reforms of their new territory and things have only progressed smoothly. Public protests to the American regime have slowly dissipated, and the vaccination have already taken a sizable portion of the new human resources. Not to mention the industrialization in both California and Texas has begun to expedite, leading to even more resources for the government. It was almost going perfectly. Despite this, small groups of loyalists to the previous regime have begun to form, but they stand no chance against their new masters…
It does not matter. As long as we continue to vaccinate the general population, those groups will dissipate on their own. That said, it may be a good idea to deal with this issue more efficiently… I'll have the committee of peace bring these interlopers to my Headquarters, they will serve the master. After that thought, lets out a brief smile, for he knows he is following his lord's will.
—---------------------
"Hey, it's you again." The security officer at the airport recognized the man next in the line. "Who's the unlucky guy this time?" He asked, mostly out of morbid curiosity, answered by a smile and a shake of the head from the man on the other side of the x-ray machine. The officer remembered this man... more accurately, he remembered that he'd always keep a round trip ticket for two weeks every time he showed up to the airport. Two weeks, no more, no less... when he came back, the man would be just in time to catch the latest broadcast investigating the mysterious death of some public figure in a faraway state.
He had disappeared for a while, and the officer had nearly forgotten about the man while White Rose and Chrysanthemum dueled in London. The officer had his suspicions—always the same face in person, but an ever-so-slightly different one appeared on the passport as a wholly new person, complete with a name, date of birth, and even the hospital where they were supposedly born. But it wasn't his job to care; after all, everyone here was just working for the paycheck, and the officer was no different.
The officer's hands flipped the passport open. Finding the photo page of a passport was becoming muscle memory after having worked here for the better part of twenty years, though the officer couldn't say he liked any part of his job. It was boring, repetitive, and in this man's case, likely completely futile. At least he bothers to hide his equipment, the officer thought to himself. He had seen much worse in the past, a couple of which he had to let through on the orders of the airport management—thanks to the lubricating effect of British Pounds.
The officer took a look at the name on the passport. "Welt, huh? Pretty unique name, I'd say." He handed the passport back to the waiting man. "Safe travels," the officer added—company policy and all. "And good luck," he murmured.
Rainfall took the passport. "Thanks," He said as he moved through the metal detector, "But this isn't for work. It's a personal trip. What happened in London's caught the attention of the higher-ups," Rainfall smiled as he gestured to the ceiling, "I've got to lay low, go into retirement again. Besides, I've already made enough, I think."
As he walked down the hallway, past myriad duty-free shops and airport gates, Rainfall recalled the start of his professional career. It was on a walkway just like the one he was on now—maybe a little narrower, dimmer, shorter, but it was the place where his dreams began. The first contract, who was it for? Where was the target?
Who did he kill?
Too many was the answer to the last question, too many bigshots to remember every last one. The sniper shook those thoughts out of his head—he was here to relax, damn it! Not think about work again!
Finally, the sniper arrived at his destination. Gate 37A, just as it had read on his ticket—economy, as usual. Everything was almost the same as the last time he was here, and yet, so much had changed.
----------
The sniper held a map of Berlin in his hands, watching the pedestrians pass by as he made a mental plan of sightseeing locations. A few shot him a strange glance as his eyes darted between the map he was holding and the buildings along the street—an unfortunate habit of his professional career, but one that he didn't mind, most of the time. The sniper was here to relax, that much was true, but the first thing he had found out stepping off the plane to Berlin was that old habits do die hard. Especially for someone as shell-shocked as he was, relaxing was perhaps a luxury he could no longer afford. Still, the sniper reminded himself that Berlin wasn't London, nor was it Normandy—he was neither an assassin on a mission nor a soldier, but a tourist.
And tourists don't need to check for enemy snipers...
The sniper reached to his side as he got up to leave. His hand was looking for the rifle case that had accompanied him across the world—but it wasn't with him. Of course it wasn't, smuggling a sniper rifle through German border security would have been difficult even before the sniper's semi-retirement, and impossible for him now. He had parted ways with his weapon on his way to the airport—it needed to be repaired after that encounter with the White Rose sniper in London, and was probably in a gunsmith's workshop at this very moment.
The sniper stood up, taking in the view of the traditional Berlin streets. It was a far different view than either the dilapidated outer edges of the metropole that the sniper grew up in, or the sprawling city center that never seemed to sleep. Through civil war, reconstruction, and urbanization, most of what had made the old Great Britain had been gradually torn down and replaced with concrete high-rises and skyscrapers—hardly anything was left of the old days, everything seemed to be sprinting at their fastest pace to the future.
Putting his map back into his backpack, the sniper got up to leave. A long day of sightseeing was ahead of him, and then—off to the next stop.
Just like before, just like nothing had ever changed.
Never a peaceful day, huh... you were right, after all.
The sniper remembered that even he had a mentor once. Back when he left the Army, he went back to drifing around the country—until he ended up in Hong Kong. His mentor was a strange character, even by the standards of that city and its traditions--he took contracts entirely out of his own will and never played nice with the local gangs. It served him well, in the end--the old traditions that every Hong Kong native clung to ended up being their downfall as the Far Eastern Branch of the White Rose swooped in to claim free real estate. It had since been a decade between now and when he left the city for London again, and...
The sniper looked up from his page in surprise. Somehow, even he had not noticed the well-dressed man now sitting beside him, holding an envelope and wearing a professional smile that the sniper had seen far too many times. Noticing the sniper's attention, the man stood, bowed, and held out the envelope.
"Mr. Rainfall. My master would like to see you," the man said in a measured tone, "he says he has important business to discuss."
The once silent hallway echoed with the sound of clapping. Even with the doors to the Senate chamber shut, Aristotle could still hear the clapping. It was almost as if everyone in that room was clapping for his sister's speech, all the parties in that chamber coming together to celebrate her. He scoffed at the idea and took another swig from his flask. Being the son of the king had its benefits, and getting alcohol into the state building was one that Aristotle couldn’t say no to. The clapping slowly came to a stop as Aris breathed a sigh of relief, his ears could finally rest.
He didn’t even want to come here in the first place. Even stepping into the building gave him bad memories of boredom and self-perceived punishments, but he wasn’t going to refuse his mother when she asked him to pick Erissa up. Seemed her original ride had to cancel and she had places to be tonight.
“I’m a glorified valet tonight it seems.” He thought as he took another drink from his flask. He was supposed to be on summer holiday, but this year it didn’t feel like a holiday. Constantly being forced to do jobs for his family wasn’t his idea of spending summer back home, but what else was he supposed to do, laze about back at the palace and do nothing? Being an errand boy for his family had its benefits, he was able to do something with his time and driving around the city was nice, but sooner than later it might drive him mad.
The door next to him slowly opened as Aris clumsily attempted to hide the flask within his suit jacket. A few drops of alcohol fell on his shirt as he put the flask in the inside pocket of the jacket. He hurriedly buttoned up the jacket, as the senators started pouring out of the doorway. He put his head down, not wanting to be recognized. After a few minutes, he felt his hair being ruffled. He looked up and saw his sister looking down at him, flashing a slight smile. Aris gave an embarrassed chuckle, as he stood up to hug his sister.
“You know, I went to your room to say goodbye before I went to work, but you were out like a light. At 11:30.” She said, punching his shoulder. He shrugged, as they started walking down the hallway to Erissas office.
“I didn’t know that 11:30 counted as sleeping in late.” He replied, giving a smug smirk. He didn’t remember last night, but he did remember waking up at midday with a splitting headache. Erissa scoffed, as he saw her roll her eyes out of the corner of his eye. He chuckled to himself again.
“If I remember correctly, Dad told you to be out of the palace by 10. Then immediately you raided the bar.” She wasn’t smiling anymore, as Aris started to get tense. Seemed that she wasn’t oblivious to his drinking like his father was. He held his head down the rest of the way until Erissa stopped at one of the many doors that lined the outside of the state building. The gold nameplate on the door read Erissas name as she took out a key and unlocked the door.
“Alright, I have to organize some documents and take them home, it won’t take long. Then you have to drive me to my date afterwards. You got it?” She asked directly to Aris. He sighed and nodded begrudgingly. She gave a smile, as she closed the office door behind her. Aris put one of his hands behind his head, as he walked back and forth in front of his sister's office, not knowing what to do.
“You know people are going to find you suspicious, Prince Aristotle.” A voice seemingly coming from nowhere boomed from behind Aris. Aris jumped a bit and turned around. As if he came out of thin air, walked a man with a fine purple suit, purple tinted sunglasses and a wooden cane. As he approached Aristotle he swept what looked like charred ash off of his suit jacket. The man smiled and extended his hand to Aristotle, as the relieved prince shook his hand.
“Director Hilfer.” Aris replied as he shook the hands of Jean-Pierre Hilfer. He was shocked to see the chief intelligence officer here, especially after a random Senate session. His father had always said Hilfer was forever preoccupied with running intelligence services to visit the senate, but here he was, in the flesh. Aris hadn’t seen Hilfer in almost three years, ever since he left to study abroad.
“How have you been my boy? School treating you well?” Hilfer asked. Aris gave a shrug, he was doing fine in school, but he wasn’t enjoying it. Thinking it would be some grand adventure was wishful thinking on his part. It was study session after study session, neverending reading, and even though he went to parties, he never had fun, usually drinking himself to sleep by the end of the night.
“Fine, I guess.” He said after a few awkward seconds. Hilfer chuckled to himself and shook his head. He seemed to notice something. He raised his cane and touched the slight bump in his suit jacket, where his flask was. The intelligence director raised his eyebrow, as Aris sighed and took the flask out of the inside of his suit jacket. Hilfer gave a look of disappointment, as he put his cane down.
“You know that’s bad for you right?” Hilfer asked, slightly mockingly as Aris looked down on the floor. He hadn’t been caught with the flask yet by his family, but somehow being caught by Hilfer made him feel even more ashamed. At least his family kind of knows he has a problem, but someone who’s not in the family made this discovery much more embarrassing.
“What is happening kid?” Hilfer asked, as Aris gave another deep sigh.
“I feel like I’m not going anywhere. I’m in school, but I don’t know what I want to do with my life. My fear is that… I’m going to be a failure, like I was when my father tried to groom me for rule. I’m stuck and I don’t know where to go.” Aris crossed his arms and tried to look away. Nobody had confronted him about his problems, but it seemed like he was anticipating someone talking about it. Hilfer noticed how Aris seemed to have a response already figured out, he was just waiting for someone to confront him. Hilfer gave a slight nod, as he looked down and back up at Aris.
“I understand. I was a bit younger than you when I felt that way. My parents were very secretive, and I didn’t feel close with them. But then I found purpose. When I came of age, my parents gave me a purpose that I could direct my life towards and slowly, but surely, that feeling of being in a rut and being stuck emotionally went away. You said that you don’t know what you want to do with your life, and that has to be rectified.” Hilfer hands Aris a card. Aris takes the card and looks at it. He looks back up at Hilfer.
“Thanks.”
“Come to me after you graduate, then we’ll talk.” Hilfer says, as he walks away. After he walked around the corner, Aris could smell a slight burning, but shrugged it off.
After a few minutes, Erissa came out from the office with documents in her hand, seeing Aris stare blankly down the hall. She snaps, as Aris jumps.
“You ready to get going?” She asked. He nodded as she walked past him. He took another look at the card, as he started to follow behind his sister.
Arriving at the white house with an air prestige, Halifax exits his Motorcade. It has been quite some time since the Americans had reached out to the British, but this opportunity will prove advantageous toward both nations. That said, not fully trusting the Americans, Hailfax keeps his guard up.
In his mind, Halifax reminded himself of his task today, as the old man had done countless times throughout his career. Give the Americans industrial aid for a favourable trade deal, try to break open their insulated market--he was sure he could do the first, but everything he had seen on his way to the White House raised doubts in his mind about the second. Still, the old man wanted to give it all a try.
Waiting directly Infront of the white house were 2 escorts, no doubt their to make Halifax feel secured. They proceeded to guide him to the Ambersons office.
"Hello, you must the British representee. If I'm not mistaken your name is Hailfax. we have been expecting your for some time. Would you mind taking a seat?" Speaking in a calm charming voice, Amberson motions towards a prestigious leather chair.
"Of course not, Mr. Amberson." Halifax replied as he took his seat, "Let's get straight into business. Your government wishes for a trade deal between the United States and Britannia--am I correct?"
“Yes that is correct, we would like to trade raw materials, in exchange for the industrialization of our nation.”
"Hm. While we can certainly provide industrial assistance, and indeed I do believe that many a British company would be willing to build industrial infrastructure in the United States, for all parties' sake I need to ask--which kinds of raw materials do you have in mind, Mr. Amberson?"
“A prime resource for trade would be oil, though specific quantities would of course vary”
"Of course. If the Americans are willing to offer oil at a reduced price, of course in exchange for increased funding to the American industrialization programme, I believe that would be beneficial to both parties. A win-win arrangement, don't you think?"
“Yes that seems like a fair agreement, we as a nation have no qualms.”
"Then of course, neither would I. However, Mr. Amberson, I have one more proposal to ask of you. Would you be willing to open up the American market to British products? It's my understanding that the American market is made up primarily of domestic production--if, say, the American tariffs on British consumer goods were lowered even slightly, I'm sure British funds and investors would be very willing to accelerate the industrialization process even further."
“That seems like a fair proposal, if it will accelerate are plans then we have no qualms.”
Amberson reaches into his hard desks drawer and pulls out a neatly stacked packet.
“Ive had this contract prepared a head of time, all you have to do is sign it”
"Very well, then, Mr. Amberson." Halifax withdrew a pen from his pocket and signed on the contract, "Pleasure doing business with you."
NotAnEmpire for co-writing this with me!So... why did he come back here?
The sniper asked himself as he braced for the landing into the Hong Kong International Airport. The cityscape was beautiful from the air, full of neon lights and streaked with the headlights of passing cars, but the sniper knew what hid beneath this outer shell--rather, anyone who had the displeasure of living there would know. Under the shell of prosperity was an unending void of criminal activity, a global hub for all kinds of disappearances, trafficking, murders... and along with it, gambling, drug use, prostitution.
If "sin city" had a name, the sniper knew, it would be Hong Kong. Too far from the Empire's heartland for its local elite to bother maintaining a clean image, yet still under the shadows of the Corporations. Those at the top of the pyramid made their killing through lucrative deals with the Big Four, pouring billions of investment funds into the ever-growing local economy and reaping profits several times their principal. These elites--many of them tied to the Hong kong underworld--owned the city. What they couldn't get out of the local population through legal extortion, the underworlders were always happy to serve up on a silver platter--the sniper knew this better than most. His career started with doing the dirty work of a local mob boss, and as he looked over the letter in his hands again, the sniper silently hoped that he wouldn't have to go back to that.
----------
The owner of Hong Kong. The "two-faced". The man sitting at the poker table was unexpectedly young for his status, but in truth, he owned not just the casino and the tower it was built on, but the entire Underworld of the city. The director of the White Rose in Asia--a separate department set up for its distance from the Isles--managed to escape mostly unscathed from the incident in London, continuing their regular operations of running the Asian Jewel from the shadows. Across from him, in turn, was a PolyTech representative, the owner of world-renowned Hong Kong Airlines, and the Lieutenant Governor of Hong Kong. They defined the British elite--an emissary of the Big Four, the owner of a critical service, a high-ranking government official... and someone who could, at a moment's notice, call them to the table, or anywhere else. In the city, the man knew, he alone was king. Not by his own merit, nor his predecessor's, but by the unique position of Hong Kong in the Empire. The city was critically important for maintaining trade in Asia, it was the Empire's foothold in the South China Sea--it was a highly independent Crown Dependency, where the forces of the Government, the Corporations, and the Underworld struck perfect equilibrium. In short, Hong Kong was a reflection of the Empire at large, unstable at first glance but in dynamic harmony over time--perhaps the three sides' only aligned interest was maintaining the status quo, and for people like him, it worked.
The man waited for the players to play their hand. One by one, they pushed their chips into the middle, and waited for the man to take his turn.
"All in," he proclaimed as he pushed his own stack of chips forwards. His gaze swept across the other players, who unanimously looked away, seemingly afraid of locking eyes with the man dressed in a plain black suit and red tie.
The PolyTech representative shook his head and threw down his cards. "Come on now, Liu. You know we can't get anywhere if this is all you do every time we play." Looking around, he sighed. "I fold."
The man smiled. "By your own will, of course. I didn't force you do do anything, right?" His eyes turned to a bouncer now by his side. "What now? I've got important business with these folks."
"Sir, there's a... strange man outside, waiting for you to see him. He gave me this to show to you..." The bouncer held out a small card, with the word Rainfall printed on one side. "Should we kick him out? He doesn't--"
"No, of course not!" The man snapped. "He is an honoured guest. Please, bring him over. We've got important business to discuss."
"No need, I'm already here." A calm voice rang out from behind. "You wanted to see me? Here I am. Speak up."
"Of course, my friend. But not here," the man replied, still facing the other players, "Give me a second, and we shall go somewhere more... discreet. My apologies, friends, but I've got something more urgent to deal with. Surely you all understand?"
A few grunts and nods was his response.
The man laughed and waved his hand. "I'll take my leave. Come, honoured guest, we've got important matters to talk about."
----------
Above the casino was the man's private meeting room. With a gesture of the hand, he invited the sniper to sit beside him, as his assistant—a woman he introduced as Chen Xueyue—brought cups of water and a small folder to the table.
"Greetings, Mr. Rainfall," the man spoke in a composed tone, "My name is Liu Wenyi. As you might've seen, this tower—more broadly, this city—is my property."
"Oh? I'd have thought the British possession would have been owned by the British Crown."
"It makes no difference, Mr. Rainfall. I am an agent of the British Crown as much as I am the Director of the Asian Branch of the White Rose, if you don't believe me, I can show you my official documentation as the Chief Security Officer of Hong Kong. Besides, Mr. Rainfall, you surely know better than I do who really runs the country—only under 'their' permission does this arrangement stand."
"Of course, Mr. Liu. But I'm sure you didn't call me over just to remind me that the British Empire is run by corrupt corporate bureaucrats, hm?"
"Of course not, Mr. Rainfall. I set this meeting up because I've got a deal to propose to you—but before I tell you the details, I think it's for the benefit of both of us if I give a short history lesson first. As you might be aware, this city—and the other ten along the Chinese coast—are territories that have been stolen from the Chinese people over two hundred years ago. As a member of the Chinese race—and as someone with such power in Hong Kong—I fell a certain responsibility to right this wrong, however I can."
"So? What does that have to do with me, 'Owner of Hong Kong'?"
"Simply speaking, I need you to kill two people for me," the man said as he flipped open the folder, "the Governor of Hong Kong and his Lieutenant. Perhaps you already know this—there's a tradition in Hong Kong whenever someone at my status announces their retirement."
"I'm aware. Reserve a restaurant and give out free meals to anyone who shows up, then neither the underworld nor local government will pursue them any further—but wasn't it your predecessors who broke that tradition in the first place?"
"It was, but what's to say we can't bring it back? I'll invite the Governor and the Lieutenant to show up with me on the balcony of the most iconic place in all of Hong Kong. They'll have no reason to refuse, and all you need to do is pull the trigger twice from a faraway building. I'll declare a state of emergency with my position as the security officer, and once I've secured total control over the city, I'll invite the Chinese Army into Hong Kong. After that, Mr. Rainfall, as long as I live—I can guarantee that you'll always be a guest of honour here."
The sniper shook his head. "Sounds well and good, but I've got a few questions you've got to answer before I agree to anything."
"Ask away, Mr. Rainfall. I'll answer them to the best of my ability."
"Why not your own people?" The sniper stared into the man's eyes, "You're the director of the White Rose in a city run almost completely by its underworld. Don't tell me you don't have anyone else to shoot two people on a balcony."
"Because I can't trust them," the man replied, "not everyone even in my own organization is loyal enough to me. A good deal of them are blatant corporate dogs, the rest of them I can't rely on—this is treason against the Empire we're discussing, after all. If anyone decides they'd have a better future selling me out to the Ministry of National Security, it'd be over."
"And you're not afraid that I'd do the same?"
"You're a killer-for-hire and a wanted criminal, Mr. Rainfall. Your part in London has done infinitely worse for the Empire than I have by simply discussing my plans with you—you wouldn't sell me out."
"Fair enough, I suppose. Still—if you can't even trust your underlings to kill two people, how're you trusting them to take over the city for you?"
"Once I've declared a state of emergency, I'll have the city police available to me as well, staffed by those I trust a little more. After that," the man laughed, "I'll simply have them take out anyone I still don't trust, and the rest will be whipped into shape."
"You're a madman, you know? Genuinely."
The man smiled. "I don't think you can say that, Mr. Rainfall, with your part in razing London in mind. Still, I've always believed that the only path to success is to abandon all rationality—only then can we truly focus on what needs to be done. Caution can only lead to stagnation, and that always means defeat."
"But sometimes, caution can save your life."
"Perhaps, but I don't have the time for that. I'm getting old, Mr. Rainfall. Everyone still loyal to their ancestry is getting old—while I'm fortunate enough not to have been born in a Castelian concession, my generation doesn't have much time left. This may be my last chance—the Chinese people's last chance."
"And you're not afraid that the Chinese people will simply hand Hong Kong back to the Empire on a silver platter? Occupying Hong Kong is akin to a declaration of war, after all. Even setting aside the possibility of China defeating the Empire and all its allies in the Castelians and Germans, what if they bow to international pressure first?"
"Then, Mr. Rainfall, they would not be worthy of my aid in the first place. I can only help up those who have enough backbone to stand—if the Republic of China has degenerated to the point where they've forgotten where their independence came from, if they do not have even the courage to die standing, then maybe they do not deserve the return of the concessions at all."
"Well if you put it like that, Mr. Liu... I'm not sure I have any choice but to agree to work with you. Certainly I'm sure you wouldn't let me leave now if I tried, would you?"
"To be honest, Mr. Rainfall, I wouldn't—but I'm glad it hasn't come to that," the man laughed, "I'm sure it'll be a pleasure working with you. Good luck to us all—we'll need it."
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